


A Bullet And A Bite

by BlackCat46, Nnoir, PrettyKitty93



Series: Vamplock [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Vampire Anthea, Vampire John Watson, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCat46/pseuds/BlackCat46, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nnoir/pseuds/Nnoir, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyKitty93/pseuds/PrettyKitty93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson had once been an ordinary man just fighting a seemingly never-ending war,<br/>But a bullet to the shoulder and all that changed.<br/>Well, a bullet and a bite.<br/>The bullet would send him back home to civilian life,<br/>But the bite would ensure he never had a 'civilian' life ever again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Life For Me

**Author's Note:**

> A collab with Nnoir
> 
> So I was asked to do a collaboration with Nnoir over fanfiction (dot) net and I thought it would be fun to try it out.  
> Especially since I sometimes have trouble getting ideas for stories and struggle to update so here's a new story for you all.  
> Me and Nnoir will be taking a few chapters each and alternating after those chapters.
> 
> So please be patient with us both on this. Hope you guys enjoy xxxx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson had once been an ordinary man just fighting a seemingly never-ending war  
> But a bullet to the shoulder and all that changed.  
> Well, a bullet and a bite.  
> The bullet would send him back home to civilian life  
> But the bite would ensure he never had a 'civilian' life ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a collaboration with Nnoir; who messaged me on fanfiction dot net to ask if we could collab.  
> And I thought why not as I've never been asked to collab with anyone before so here it is xxx

John Watson had once been an ordinary man just fighting a seemingly never-ending war, but a bullet to the shoulder and all that changed.

Well, a bullet and a bite.

The bullet would send him back home to civilian life, but the bite would ensure he never had a 'civilian' life ever again.

Captain John Hamish Watson was shot by an unknown sniper while fighting in Afghanistan. He was saved by one of his own Privates who was barely nineteen and couldn't even stitch up a jumper, but somehow managed to keep John alive long enough to get him to a hospital.

The rest of it is a bit of a blur to John but he does remember a beautiful young man in an old fashioned suit entering his room and changing his life forever.

This mysterious man bit John and changed him into the creature he is today; a vampire.

A year and one therapist later, John is walking through the park when he bumps into his old friend Mike Stanford.

As they sit down to drink coffee, Mike notices something strange about his friend and he has somewhat of an idea what that is.

“You know, I heard stories while you were away. About things that weren't entirely … human.” Mike says casually; too casually in John's opinion.

“What are you talking about, Mike?” John asks with a bemused chuckle.

“Strange things happening. People surviving things others wouldn't.” Mike says pointedly at John.

“And?”

“I was wondering if you ...”

“If I what, Mike?” John snaps, clearly uncomfortable.

“If you knew anything.”

“Like what?”

“There's creatures out there, John. I've heard stories of them. Creatures with impossible strength and speed. Creatures who can't age, who drink blood to survive. I believe myth calls them creatures of the night.”

“Are you talking about vampires?” John laughs, turning in his seat to look at Mike properly.

“I told you, there are stories.” Mike insists desperately.

“Yeah, of fictional creatures from the minds of creative writers, Mike. They're the stuff of fairytale and horrors.”

“But they're real, John.”

“Shit, has Dracula come to London while I've been away? Shame I missed that. Maybe I'll bump into him one night.” John continues to laugh, secretly knowing that Mike isn't totally wrong.

“Well, not Dracula but I know you know what I'm talking about.”

“Yeah, I do, Mike. You're talking about fictional creatures. This isn't that Twilighty crap, Mike.”

“John, I read your record.”

And that's when the bomb drops, not a real one; though John secretly wishes it had been. No, instead its the bomb he's been avoiding since the hospital in Afghanistan.

The confession of 'I'm a vampire' bounces around in his head but the words die on his lips. Because if he dares speak them then it becomes real and that's when Mike will run and John will never see him again.

So instead John says, “And? What's that got to do with the stories you've heard?”

“You back living in London then?” Mike asks instead, following John's hint to change the subject.

John takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself before answering, glad of Mike's understanding.

“Yeah, I can't afford it now on an army pension though.”

“You could get a flat share or something.”

“C'mon. Who'd want me for a flatmate?” John asks, giving a weak laugh and looking at his friend pointedly.

“Mm.” Mike replies, giving a sort of smile.

“What?” John asks curiously.

“I think I know just the person for you.” Mike grins, standing up from the bench.

“Who?”


	2. A New Life For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock knows there is something different about the invalided army doctor from the moment he enters the room  
> He just doesn't know exactly what it is.

Sherlock knows there is something different about the invalided army doctor from the moment he enters the room, he just doesn't know exactly _what_ it is.

So he spends the next five minutes deducing the man in front of him, but to his annoyance, he still can't figure out what the man is hiding. Even when he has a quick snoop through the man's phone under the guise of sending a text, all it reveals is that the phone is a gift from his brother.

It's like the man is the biggest and most interesting mystery he's ever encountered.

So after Sherlock gives John his phone back, he makes a passing remark about a riding crop and the morgue before walking to the exit.

“Is that it?” John asks, looking pointedly at the other man.

“Is that what?”

“We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?”

“Problem?”

“We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name.”

Sherlock smiles and delivers his final deductions about John, grinning before exiting the room. Then he pops his head back in before finally introducing himself.

“The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one bee Baker Street. Afternoon.”

He smiles again and winks before disappearing out the door.

“Yeah, he's always like that.” Mike grins before adding, “Told you I knew just the person for you.”

“Mike ...”

“I know what happened to you, John. It doesn't matter to me. Just as long as you don't choose me as your next meal.” Mike laughs, clapping John on the shoulder before leaving.

“Bloody hell.” John sighs, momentarily debating on taking a trip down memory lane in Bart's before going home.

x..x

He heads home an hour later after having a quick chat with the pathologist; Molly and begins to wonder if moving in with that mad man would be such a good idea.

He could hear the thoughts bouncing around the man's brain as he tried to work out John's secret. Obviously he wasn't purposely snooping on his thoughts; no, his little 'gift' is still a work in progress . That's why he had the therapist and the PTSD, not because he is haunted by the war but because he can't turn off his bloody mind-reading ability.

John mulls over his powers as he walks home, glaring at passers-by who can't stop thinking for just ten seconds.

He gets back to the B&B and quickly pops some paracetamol, hoping to dispel his banging headache.

John flops onto his bed and breathes slowly, wondering when his stomach will complain from hunger.

That's something else he's going to struggle with; making sure Sherlock doesn't find any blood bags and figures out what he is.

Could there be any more problems to worry about?

_Deep slow breaths, John. It's fine. Mike knows so if anything happens, just call him. And don't think about sinking your fangs into that lovely pale neck of Sherlock's …_

“Shit!” John curses out loud, smacking his first against the wall. “How the fuck am I going to do this?

“I'm being an idiot. I'm not some mindless creature. I can control myself just fine and I will, perfectly. No biting potential flatmates and definitely no biting friends.” John says to himself aloud, repeating the mantra to curb his blood lust.

His phone buzzes with an incoming text and when John pulls it out his pocket, he stares at it for five minutes before actually opening the message.

_**9am tomorrow morning.** _

_**And don't be late.** _

_**SH** _

_**MESSAGE RECEIVED** _

John re-reads the text four times before huffing a laugh out at his screen.

_Cheeky bastard. Stealing my phone number. Could have just bloody asked for it._

He grins and decides to reply with exactly that. The next text makes him laugh out loud.

_**Where would be the fun in that?** _

_**Besides I prefer pick-pocketing** _

_**people. Much more interesting.** _

_**SH** _

_**MESSAGE RECEIVED** _

John smiles to himself and thinks; living with Sherlock Holmes is certainly going to be interesting.

 


	3. The Science Of Deduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Found your website. The Science Of Deduction.” John smiles, looking up at Sherlock.  
> “What did you think?”  
> “You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?”  
> “Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone.”  
> “How?” John asks, curious to know if what the younger man is saying is actually true.

John wakes up at 7am the following morning, desperately craving blood and quickly diving out of bed to grab some from the mini fridge.

He pours it into a glass and chugs it back in one gulp; patiently waiting as his blood-lust subsides.

He sighs in relief as he finally starts to feel calmer and quickly washes his glass out before deciding to make a cup of tea for himself.

 _Two hours before I need to meet Sherlock_. John thinks with a smile, and that gives him an idea.

He finishes making his tea and takes it over to his desk, turning his laptop on and opening up Chrome internet explorer.

After staring at the screen a few minutes; wondering if it's such a good idea to look up a man you just met, he decides to just get on with it and types  _Sherlock Holmes_  into the search bar.

“Mmm. Interesting. Can he really do that though?”

John chuckles as he continues to read and drink his tea, trying to make a mental note of all the questions he wants to ask the younger man later.

Just as John is contemplating walking to Baker Street, his leg reminds him how painful it is to walk long distances and John settles on getting the tube instead.

He does get off a stop earlier to remind his  _damned_  leg he can  _actually_ walk to Baker Street; despite having to use his cane.

He walks down to Speedy's cafe and looks at the door numbers, turning around as a taxi pulls up next to him and Sherlock climbs out the cab.

“Hello.” Sherlock smiles, holding a hand out for John to shake.

“Ah, Mr Holmes.” John smiles back, shaking the younger man's hand.

“Sherlock, please.”

“Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive.” John replies, looking around at the other buildings on the street.

Sherlock follows John's eyes and considers this before replying, “Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she's given me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.”

Sherlock starts to climb the steps as John tries to process this.

“Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?” John asks in surprise, following Sherlock up the steps.

“Oh, no, I ensured it.” Sherlock smiles, knocking on the door.

“Sherlock!” A lovely woman greets with a smile and a hug.

“Mrs Hudson, Dr John Watson.”

“Hello. Come in.” Mrs Hudson beams brightly, ushering the two men into the building.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we ...?” Sherlock asks, climbing the stairs to the first floor.

John follows him up the stairs and stops at the door as he examines all the mess around them before taking a quick look at the kitchen.

“Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed.”

“Yes. Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely. So I went straight ahead and moved in.” “Soon as we get this rubbish cleaned up.” The two men say at the same time and John gives Sherlock a puzzled look before continuing.

“So this is all ...”

“Well, obviously I can straighten things up a bit.” Sherlock agrees, walking over to the mantelpiece and moving a few things around.

“That's a skull.” John says suddenly, looking back at Sherlock.

“Friend of mine. When I say friend ...”

Sherlock is cut off as Mrs Hudson walks in and hovers by the door.

“What do you think, then, Dr Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms.” Mrs Hudson says with a wink.

“Of course we'll be needing two.” John replies with a puzzled look.

“Oh, don’t worry; there’s all sorts round here. Mrs Turner next door’s got married ones.” Mrs Hudson replies, blushing a little before moving a few things around.

John shakes his head to himself, looking around the room as Sherlock takes off his coat and scarf.

“Oh, Sherlock. Look at the mess you've made.” Mrs Hudson chides, continuing onto the kitchen with a cup and saucer in hand.

John smiles before throwing a cushion on the second chair in the room and carefully sitting down; mindful of his leg.

Sherlock continues to move a few things around; looking at John from the corner of his eye, before looking back at his case file.

“I looked you up on the internet.” John says casually, looking at the small table in front of him.

Sherlock stops reading the case file and looks up at John curiously.

“Anything interesting?”

“Found your website. The Science Of Deduction.” John smiles, looking up at Sherlock.

“What did you think?”

“You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?”

“Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone.”

“How?” John asks, curious to know if what the younger man is saying is actually true.

Yet again, Sherlock is prevented from responding by Mrs Hudson; who upon re-entering the living room is reading the newspaper.

“What about these suicides, then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same.“ The landlady says, looking up at the younger man.

“Four. There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time.”

Sherlock looks out the window and sees a man heading to the building's door.

“A fourth?”

“Where?” Sherlock asks the Inspector, hearing his arrival up the stairs.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.” The Inspector replies immediately.

“What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me unless something is different.“

“You know how they never leave notes?”

“Yeah.”

“This one did. Will you come?”

“Who's on forensics?”

“Anderson.” The Inspector replies immediately, apparently oblivious to John's presence.

Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes before replying.

“Anderson doesn't work well with me.”

“Well, he won't be your assistant. “

“I need an assistant.” Sherlock growls, finally turning to look at the Inspector.

“Will you come?” The Inspector asks with a resigned sigh.

“Not in a police car, I'll be right behind.”

“Thank you.” The Inspector immediately leaves, still having not noticed John.

“Brilliant! Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas. Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food.”

Sherlock jumps around brightly before grabbing his coat and scarf.

“I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper.” Mrs Hudson calls from the kitchen.

“Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!” Sherlock exclaims as he runs down the stairs.

Mrs Hudson walks back into the room and looks after Sherlock, smiling fondly at the younger man before looking back at John.

“Look at him, dashing about ... My husband was just the same. But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg.” Mrs Hudson says affectionately.

“Damn my leg! Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing ...” John exclaims before cutting off as Mrs Hudson pats his shoulder.

“I understand, dear, I've got a hip.”

“Cup of tea'd be lovely. Thank you.” John smiles, picking up the newspaper the landlady was reading.

“Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper.”

“Couple of biscuits too, if you've got them.” John chuckles softly.

“Not your housekeeper!”

Sherlock’s voice breaks the silence in the living room as he re-enters; looking carefully at John.

“You're a doctor. In fact, you're an Army doctor.”

“Yes.” John replies, immediately at attention.

“Any good?” Sherlock asks, as he slips on his gloves.

“Very good.” John puts the paper down before standing up straight.

“Seen a lot of injuries, then. Violent deaths.”

“Well, yes.”

“Bit of trouble too, I bet?”

“Of course. Yes. Enough for a lifetime, far too much.”

“Want to see some more?”

“Oh, God, yes.” John smiles, following Sherlock as he heads for the stairs. “Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out.”

“Both of you?”

“Impossible suicides? Four of them? No point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!”

“Look at you, all happy. It's not decent.” Mrs Hudson admonishes, as Sherlock hugs her goodbye.

“Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!”

“Taxi.” The younger man calls, hailing the cab down and opening the door for John.

x..x

“Okay, you’ve got questions.” Sherlock breaks the silence that has fell over the taxi.

“Yeah, where are we going?”

“Crime scene, obviously. Next?”

“Who are you? What do you do?” John asks, staring at the young man.

“What do you think?”

“I’d say private detective …” John replies unsurely, seeing if Sherlock will give any clue.

“But?”

“But the police don’t go to private detectives.”

“I’m a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job.” Sherlock replies, still staring out the window.

“What does that mean?”

“It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me.”

“The police don’t consult amateurs.” John replies.

“When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, “Afghanistan or Iraq?” You looked surprised.”

“Yes, how  _ _did__ you know?”

Sherlock tells John his deductions as the ex-army doctor asks questions and confirms certain details.

When Sherlock's finished John stares at him in disbelief before smiling.

“Amazing.”

“Really?” Sherlock asks in confusion, not expecting such a response.

“Yes, that was … extraordinary. Quite extraordinary.”

“That's not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Piss off.” Sherlock smiles before John grins back at him.

 


	4. A Study In Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock asks John to help him with a case; a series of serial suicides.  
> John gets a warning from Donovan and an offer from Mycroft Holmes.  
> What will he do about either situations when they concern Sherlock.

They arrive at the crime scene and John is thankful for the lack of blood; despite having his _gift_ under control, being so close to blood can sometimes cause … _complications._

Sherlock sets to work with his deductions and even asks for John's assistance; which shocks Lestrade and raises more questions for John.

John gives Sherlock his diagnosis on what happened to their 'pink lady' before the younger man starts shouting about a suitcase and asking where it is.

Lestrade tries to tell him there is no suitcase but Sherlock doesn't listen; he just runs off in search or it, leaving John to wonder after him before leaving the building in search of the mad detective.

Donovan stops him on his way out and tells John that Sherlock is not his friend because Sherlock doesn't have _friends_ ; and as much as John wants to tell her to mind her own damn business, he just nods in response and asks how he can get back to Baker Street.

She takes the hint and gives him directions, to which he sighs but slowly starts to walk away, thankful to get away from the nosey cow.

He's half way home when he gets a phone call from a mysterious man who can somehow control all the CCTV in London and begrudgingly obliges when told to get in a car.

“So why am I here then?” John asks the empty warehouse he's been dropped off at.

“Doctor Watson, we meet at last.” A mysterious and dangerous looking man announces, appearing from the shadows.

“Sorry, who are you?” John asks cautiously, his guard going up.

“You must be hungry, Doctor Watson.” The man replies, ignoring John's question.

A moment later, the equally mysterious woman from the car steps forward and hands him a glass filled with what suspiciously looks like blood.

“Is this a joke?” John laughs, despite wanting to gulp the whole glass down.

“Drink it, Doctor Watson.”

“I'm good, thanks.” John laughs, looking back at the mysterious man.

The man pulls out what looks like a notebook from his jacket pocket and John eyes it warily.

“What is your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?”

“Who wants to know?”

“A concerned party. Now answer the question, Doctor Watson.”

“There isn't one. I hardly know him.”

“And yet since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?” The man smiles slyly.

“ _Who_ are you?” John asks again, now very suspicious.

“Trust issues, it says here.”

“What's that?”

“Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?”

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Have that drink now, John. You must be _very_ hungry.”

“No, I'm going home.”

“I can help you with your current living situation. All I need is information on Sherlock Holmes. I can make it worth your while.”

“No. That's the end of it.” John snaps, turning around and walking away from the man.

“Very well. Oh, and Doctor Watson, do be careful with Sherlock. Try not to _bite_ him, it would be such an inconvenience.”

John growls and allows the young woman to open the door to the car for him; climbing in, he notices her fangs and John suspects it isn't accidental, much like the man allowing John to read his mind wasn't.

“Right then.” He mutters, sitting back in his seat.

x..x

He finally makes it back home and starts to feel his hunger kicking in so he lets himself in and quickly runs up to his room to feed.

Sherlock shouts him down ten minutes later and asks him to text a mobile from his number. John rolls his eyes as he sees the younger man lying on the couch not two feet away from his _own_ mobile.

“I met your brother today. Mycroft.” John says casually, looking down at the phone as he sends the text Sherlock asked him to.

“My brother. Did he tell you that?” Sherlock asks, looking John over carefully.

“Let's just say that it was _implied_.” John replies, looking up at the younger man.

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?”

“Again, it was implied.”

“Did you take it?” Sherlock asks curiously, resting his hands back under his chin in a prayer position.

“Of course I didn't.”

“Pity. We could have split it, think better next time.” Sherlock replies, making John look at him warily.

John sighs and decides to sit down and ignore the man, not noticing the suitcase next to Sherlock's chair.

x..x

A few hours later, after Sherlock and John have run around London trying to find the murderer, they arrive home and John discovers his limp is as psychosymatic as Sherlock deduced, as well as Lestrade's team searching for drugs and whatever else.

John discovers that Sherlock was a drug addict and Sherlock's surprised that John realises this just based on Lestrade's team being here. The younger man begins to track the GPS of the pink lady's phone and upon discovering something, he disappears shortly after claiming to need some air.

John takes no notice at first until he realises that something doesn't seem right and initially puts it down to all the people in the room but after a few minutes he still can't shake the feeling off.

After checking the GPS from the pink lady's phone and realising it's right outside their door and starting to move away he goes after the cab driver on foot; taking off running at an impossible speed.

He tracks Sherlock's location to a university and starts to search the building, he runs into a room and witnesses as Sherlock is about to take a pill. Without thinking anything other than 'Sherlock could die', he pulls out his gun and fires a shot through two windows, hitting the cabbie in the chest.

He turns and runs before Sherlock can identify him and only re-appears outside the building while Lestrade is asking to take a statement.

John hears Sherlock begin to describe the shooter before he turns around and sees John; suddenly retracting his statement and telling Lestrade he's in shock.

Sherlock makes his way over to John, “Nice shot.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, why wouldn't I be?”

“You did just kill a man.”

“Yes, well. He wasn't a very nice man though.”

“That's true.” Sherlock grins, conceding to John's point.

“And frankly a bloody awful cabbie.” John smiles, nudging Sherlock.

“That's right, he was a bad cabbie. You should have seen the route he took us to get here.”

John giggles, “We can't laugh it's a crime scene.”

“You're the one who shot him.” Sherlock laughs.

“Sorry, it's the shock.” John calls to a nearby forensics guy as he looks over at the pair.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I know a Chinese down the road …” Sherlock cuts off as he sees a car pull up in front of them.

“Ah, here they are. Sherlock.”

“Mycroft.” Sherlock drawls, looking away from the man.

“Doctor Watson. Nice to see you again.” Mycroft smiles, looking directly at the older man.

“Mr Holmes.” John replies awkwardly, glancing away from Mycroft.

“Mycroft, please. How are you, brother mine?”

“What are you doing here, Mycroft?”

“Just checking on you. You know how Mummy worries.”

“Yes, well, if you're quite finished.”

“Very well. Off anywhere nice?”

“Not that it's any of your business but we're off for something to eat.” John replies, glaring at the older Holmes.

“Oh, I bet you are.” Mycroft smirks, directing the remark at John, “Just remember what I said, Doctor Watson.”

“Oh, piss off, Mycroft.” Sherlock snaps, walking away from his brother.

John glares at Mycroft before following Sherlock.

x..x

When the pair finally arrive home and John's finished his Chinese, he quickly types up the case on his blog before deciding to feed.

Sherlock's busy doing an experiment so he doesn't notice as John leaves the room and heads upstairs.

John swallows down his glass of blood and sighs happily, considering having a lie down for a while.

He falls asleep instantly and his dreams are filled with a tall, dark haired man with the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen.


	5. I Am Hell Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the next few months John falls into a routine of living with the younger man.  
> But when things start to change  
> What will happen when Sherlock finds out the truth about his flatmate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys, I don't know what's going on with my collaboration partner Nnoir so I thought I'd upload a chapter instead.  
> Starting listening to Demons by Imagine Dragons while writing this and it made me think about using it as inspiration for the title of this chapter xxx

Over the next few months John falls into a routine of living with the younger man. Well, as much of a routine as can be had with a flatmate who dashes off at irregular intervals; often not telling John where, plays his violin at all hours of the night and brings in dead body parts to conduct his ridiculous experiments.

In many ways if someone were to observe the pair, they may wonder what kind of madness goes on inside 221B and the truth would probably shock, stun or worse, terrify them.

Not that anybody knows John is a vampire that is, well, except for the vampire who turned him and Mike.

And Mike wouldn’t tell anyone, would he? No, he wouldn’t, John is certain of that.

John stretches his back out and groans as his shoulder pops back into place. After getting dressed, he looks over at his bedroom door; listening for any signs that Sherlock might be awake before grabbing a bag of blood, pouring it into a glass and downing it quickly before letting out a contented sign.

Suddenly he hears a gasp and the sound of feet running down the stairs. The glass slips from John’s hand and shatters to pieces when it hits the floor as the vampire chases after his flatmate.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” John curses as he runs down the stairs and through the kitchen to Sherlock’s bedroom.

The door slams in his face as he gets there and John curses even more.

“Sherlock, please open the door. I need to explain.”

“It’s pretty obvious what is going on, John. You’re obviously a vampire.” Sherlock snaps, a waver in his voice.

“No, don’t do that, please. Sherlock, you have to believe that I’d _never_ hurt you. I didn’t want to be like this but I was going to die and someone decided to turn me into _this_.” John replies brokenly, afraid of losing the man he’s come to call a friend.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Where you ever going to tell me? Would you ever try and drink from me?” Sherlock asks in a ramble, the sound of his pacing feet ringing in John’s ears.

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. Yes, I was when I was ready. And God no, Sherlock, I’d never do that to you. Not without permission and never as a long-term thing.” John sobs softly, resting his head against the door.

The pacing stops as Sherlock listens to his flatmate sobbing at his door; his heart wanting to open the door and embrace the man he’s started to fall in love with.

“If you want me to leave, I will. I don’t want to hurt you, Sher, and if that means leaving then I’ll do it without a second thought.” John continues to sob, his hands pressed against the wood keeping him and Sherlock apart.

Obviously, he could easily break it down without breaking a sweat but he wants Sherlock to trust him, not fear him, so instead he moves away from the door and heads back to his room to pack.

Sherlock hears the footsteps recede and feels an instant ache in his chest at the distance growing between them.

He opens his door slowly, walking back into the living room before leaning on the back of John’s chair; feeling the soft wool of one of the vampire’s jumpers under his fingers.

He picks it up and presses his face into it, inhaling the scent of the extraordinary man who literally _limped_ right into his life that day at Bart’s.

John is hurriedly packing his belongings into his suit case when he hears a knock on his bedroom door.

“Just give me a few minutes, Sherlock. I’ll finish packing and then I’ll be gone.” John replies with a forced calm, tears trailing down his cheek.

He’s enjoyed the time he’s spent with Sherlock; being his flatmate, his colleague, but most importantly, his friend. He’d dared to hope that maybe they could be more than that one day. But now that dream is gone and he’s lost Sherlock for good.

Sherlock knocks again and John can hear his nervous twitching as he shuffles his feet at John’s door.

“Sherlock, I told you …” John starts to reply until he’s interrupted by Sherlock throwing open the unlocked door.

“Don’t go.” Sherlock whispers, looking over at the vampire with tear-filled eyes.

John pauses mid-packing, trying to understand what Sherlock means. As usual he doesn’t understand the younger man and has to look over at him, seeing his jumper clenched in his fists and his tearful eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t go. I’m sorry, John. I was just surprised and I didn’t know how to deal with it. But don’t go, please. I’d be lost without my blogger.” Sherlock pleads desperately, walking over to John.

“Sherlock, I’m a vampire. That will never change. If you can’t handle that then I can’t stay. But I also can’t stay just because you want company. I need to know that I’m wanted here. That you trust me.”

“I don’t want you for company, John!” Sherlock cries desperately, causing John to coil back like he’s been physically hit. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I want you here because I want you here.”

“What?” John replies, completely confused.

Sherlock growls in frustration before grabbing John’s face in his hands and kissing him hard.

John nearly sobs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the younger man and kissing him thoroughly.

“Do you understand now?” Sherlock whispers into John’s lips.

“Yes.” John breathes, pupils blown wide and fangs extended.

Sherlock pulls back slightly in shock, causing John’s face to contort in worry before he realises what Sherlock must be seeing.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to bite you, I swear. It’s just a reaction to the kissing.” John struggles to explain, focussing on telling his brain to retract his fangs.

“No, John, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I’ve known it since that first night. It's still a shock that’s all.”

“I know. I’m trying to control it but it’s so hard around you, Sher. You get me going so easily that I think I’d lose my mind if I couldn’t kiss or touch you.”

“Really? You find me sexually attractive?” Sherlock asks in genuine confusion.

“No, Sherlock, I’m just stood here looking like a horny mess for absolutely nothing.” John replies sarcastically, “Of course I find you sexually attractive, you idiot.”

“Oh. Well, John, you should know …”

“If you dare tell me that you’re married to your work again, I swear to God, Sherlock, I’ll lose it.” John replies with a smirk, running his fingers through his short hair.

“Well, I am. You know that, John.” Sherlock states matter-of-factly, stepping back into John’s personal space again before adding, “But you are part of The Work now, therefore …”

John looks up into Sherlock’s bright blues eyes with a smile, “Well, in that case.” He says before reaching up to kiss the younger man softly with just a hint of teeth.

Sherlock moans and his knees start to buckle as John’s fangs lightly scrape against his lips; not breaking the skin just adding a bit of pressure.

John hums in satisfaction, wrapping an arm around the younger man’s waist and pulling him flush against himself.

“Oh God.” Sherlock gasps, breathing heavy and grabbing John’s shoulder for support. “Why did I think you being a vampire would change _anything_ I felt about you?”

John freezes as he processes Sherlock’s words and what that means regarding them.

“ _Sherlock_.” He sighs softly, barely even a whisper as he cups Sherlock’s face in his hand. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” He adds sadly, kissing his cheek.

The younger man angles his head to catch John’s lips with his own and kisses him slowly; full of truth and promises.

John’s eyes slide close and a tear falls down his cheek as he kisses the younger man, wrapping his other arm around him and holding him securely but carefully.

“I know I’m not good at this sort of thing, John but I know that I don’t want to be without you. Ever.”

“You’ve changed my life so much. But what made you change your mind about me so quickly?” John asks carefully, not meeting Sherlock’s eyes.

“I never wanted you to go in the first place. _You_ just assumed that. I just didn’t know what to do about you being a vampire. I thought everything I’d learnt about you was a lie. And I didn’t know what you’d do to me after I found out.”

“This isn’t some movie, Sherlock …”

“I know. When I heard you sobbing at my door I realised that while you hadn’t told me about being a vampire, you also hadn’t lied to me about anything. You were still John, just with fangs and blood-drinking.”

 _And possibly immortality_ John wanted to say, but bit his tongue for fear of upsetting the younger man.

After all, this was the most open and honest Sherlock had ever been and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“Just remember that I’ll never hurt you, not intentionally. And I have a supplier for blood so I won’t ever need to drink from you, okay?”

“Yes, John.”

“Good.”

“I need to go out for a few hours. Will you be alright without me?” Sherlock asks seriously, running his hand through John’s short hair.

“Of course I will. Just, promise me you won’t tell Mrs Hudson, not right now. I’ll tell her, and Lestrade soon but … not yet.” John replies nervously, squeezing Sherlock’s fingers.

“Of course, John. It will be our secret. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Sherlock smiles gently, kissing the vampire’s forehead.

“Thank you. Now, get going and do what you do. I’ll be fine here for a few hours. I’ll watch some crap telly and have a cup of tea.” John grins lightly, nudging the younger man towards the door.

Sherlock takes the hint and goes downstairs, stopping at the bottom to look back up towards John’s room.

“Don’t ever leave me, John.” He whispers, grabbing his coat and leaving the flat.


	6. Please Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t ever leave me, John.”  
> John; who had just started to unpack, looks at his bedroom door as he hears Sherlock's words and smiles.  
> “I won't.” He whispers softly, knowing Sherlock's already gone and won't hear him but needing to say it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really late update with this one. Real life tends to take over and its even worse when you lose inspiration to write. I'm going to try and get at least one chapter done for each story this week. Then try and update much more regularly.
> 
> Thanks for your patience guys and hope it was worth the wait xxx

_“Don’t ever leave me, John.”_

John; who had just started to unpack, looks at his bedroom door as he hears Sherlock's words and smiles.

“I won't.” He whispers softly, knowing Sherlock's already gone and won't hear him but needing to say it anyway.

He finishes unpacking his belongings and putting them away before remembering the broken bloody glass on the floor.

He heads downstairs to the kitchen to fetch some supplies, then returns to his room; dropping the shards of glass into a bin bag and carefully trying to remove the drying blood stain from the carpet.

Deciding against throwing the cloths he's used in the wash and causing Mrs Hudson a fright, he decides to throw them in the big bag and drops it inside their kitchen bin.

Mrs Hudson obviously won't rummage through their bin if she decides to take it out to the main one with her own rubbish so it should ensure John's secret is kept, for now.

John looks around the room for any more rubbish, suddenly feeling the need to keep busy while Sherlock is out.

He knows he's being ridiculous but he can't help the unease that other people might find out his secret and before he knows it, all of London will be on their doorstep trying to get a glimpse at the vampire, or worse; trying to kill him.

It's two hours later when Sherlock finally comes home and wakes John from his sleep on the couch.

“Sherlock … wha time is it?” John asks sleepy, his voice rough with sleep.

“Lunch time. Um, I bought Chinese on the way home.” Sherlock replies shyly, forcing a calm smile at John.

“You did? Thank you, Sherlock.” John replies with a genuine smile, taking the bag from Sherlock and getting up to go to the kitchen.

Sherlock nods in reply, smiling to himself that he did something right for once.

“Listen, Sherlock, we need to talk about what happened upstairs and what that means for us.” John calls from the kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery for them.

He places everything down and flicks the kettle on to boil, grabbing cups from the cupboard to make two teas.

“What's there to talk about? You're a vampire, I'm human. We kissed. We'll probably have sexual intercourse soon, which is fine by the way. It's all fine, John.”

John chokes on air at Sherlock's words, turning to look at the younger man with a startled expression.

“O-kay. First of all, Sherlock, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm not sure how sex is going to work, what with me being a vampire and you a human. Secondly, it's not as black and white as that. I'm a vampire, Sherlock. Even I'm afraid I might lose control with you at some point, and I don't want that. I care about you too much to let that happen.” John replies in worry, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“John, I trust that you _won't_ lose control. As long as you have the blood that you need, you should be able to keep in control.” Sherlock replies carefully, stepping into John's space and cradling his face with his hands.

“And what about stake-outs, Sherlock. I can't just pull out a bag of blood and say _'Oh, I hope you don't mind guys, I'm just a bit peckish.'_ I'll get locked up.”

Sherlock chuckles softly at his friend, leaning down to kiss his forehead and rub his temples with his thumbs.

“I'd suggest doing what all the diet obsessives do. Pour your snack into a travel mug and say its a protein shake.” The younger man grins, causing John to glare at him.

“Are you _actually_ being serious? What if they ask what's in it?”

“John, you are a _doctor_. You should know better than anyone else what is good for your body and what could be put in a dietary cocktail.”

“Sherlock … you're not going to let me win this discussion, are you? You'll just keep throwing out excuses and facts until I fold, won't you?” John sighs in defeat, smiling up at the younger man.

“Ah, your observation is correct, John.” Sherlock grins, leaning in to kiss John.

John's breath hitches in surprise, his body unable to respond for a few seconds while his brain tries to process what's going on.

He rocks onto his toes to kiss Sherlock better; his hands dropping to the younger man's waist as Sherlock continues to kiss him slowly.

When Sherlock pulls away, John feels breathless and tries to think of something to say to the younger man.

“Um, well, that was unexpected.” John replies in shock, shutting his eyes in embarrassment at such a stupid statement. “I mean, that was a nice surprise.”

Sherlock giggles in response, “Yes, it was. Apologies, John, I just … decided to go with what felt appropriate given the situation.”

“I could be okay with that. Random and spontaneous kisses, I mean.” John smiles, stroking Sherlock's waist.

“As could I, John.” Sherlock agrees, letting go of John's face and moving out of his space.

He steps round John and grabs the milk from the fridge, setting it on the counter before sitting down at the table expectantly.

“We still need to talk though, Sherlock. If not today then at some point. Whenever you're ready.” He says carefully, looking over at the younger man as he makes the teas.

“I know.” Sherlock whispers, reaching over to grab his food.

They sit in companionable silence while they eat their food, each man dealing with their own thoughts until Sherlock breaks the silence.

“What's it like? Being a vampire, I mean?”

“It's, um … sort of hard to explain. I have better hearing now and better reflexes. But the blood drinking can be … _difficult_. Especially when I wake up in the mornings or if I've misjudged when I last fed. It causes a sort of blood lust. I've learnt to somewhat control it so it shouldn’t be a problem. Hopefully.”

“What else?” Sherlock asks, setting his food aside and looking intently at John.

John involuntarily shudders at the intense concentration, taking a steadying breath before pushing his plate aside and replying.

“I’m much faster now. I noticed my speed had increased the night of the Study In Pink case. It was how I managed to find you so quickly.”

“And disappear just as quick.” Sherlock remarks with a smirk, remembering that night all too well.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that. I was worried you’d find out and be scared of me. Well, of what I am. I should have told you.” John responds apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s completely understandable, John. I’d deduced there was something about you the day I met you. And I assume I’m right in thinking that you hadn’t completely accepted your new _abilities_ until much later.”

John smiles at his flatmate’s statement, realising that the genius is of course, completely correct in his assumption. 

Sherlock looks at John curiously for a few moments before asking, “What?”

“You’re remarkable, do you know that?” He replies softly, still smiling at the younger man.

“You really think so?” Sherlock smirks dangerously, eyeing the doctor with fondness.

“Completely remarkable.” John smirks back, leaning closer to the genius.

“That’s not what people usually say.”

“I know. They usually tell you to piss off.” John grins, watching Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock just laughs in response, causing John to laugh along with him.

“That they do.” He finally says, still laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter I'm thinking of doing Sherlock's POV of when he leaves the house. Just to give some idea to his thought process during that as I've done John's side. I'll try and get that up back next week if not before xxx


	7. Running From The Madhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock leaves the flat in order to sort out his thoughts.  
> Meanwhile Mycroft interferes as usual.   
> While John is as always, understanding and reasonable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and the shortness but wanted it get it done. Plus I like where I left it tbh.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it xxx

Sherlock leaves the flat, debating for a few seconds whether to head to St Bart’s to see the bodies from their latest case before realising he's too wrapped up in his thoughts to focus on it right now.

As he walks, he unconsciously turns right into the park and sends a quick text to Molly letting her know that he’s too busy to come to the morgue before sitting down at a bench.

The younger man isn’t sure how long he’s sitting there just going through everything in his Mind Palace; but when he emerges, he recognises the sounds of the lunch time rush. He ruffles his curls and stretches when he stands, realising that he’s actually hungry for a change.

Deciding on grabbing Chinese on his way home, he’s stopped on his way by a sleek black car pulling up beside him.

“What do you want, Mycroft?” He asks with a sigh as the window rolls down.

“Just checking on you, brother dear. You were in your Mind Palace for quite some time in the park. I hope everything is alright.” Mycroft replies with a smirk.

“I should have known you would be stalking me.” Sherlock replies in a bored drawl.

“There’s CCTV cameras across the road, Sherlock. You know that.”

“Haven’t you got anything better to do than watch your little brother through CCTV, Mycroft?” Sherlock snaps back, glaring at his brother.

“As I said, I was just checking on you, brother mine. How’s Doctor Watson?” Mycroft replies with a smug smile.

“He told me you bribed him, brother dear. Maybe next time you shouldn’t over play your hand. John won’t be bought so easily.”

“How would you know, Sherlock? Every man has his price.”

“John is better than that.” Sherlock growls, finally coming face to face with his brother.

“My, my, we are _smitten_ with the good doctor. Aren’t we?” Mycroft grins, clearly goading his brother.

Sherlock steps back with a sneer, “I have work to do. Goodbye, Mycroft.”

“Goodbye, brother dear.” Mycroft chuckles, rolling the car window up as the vehicle pulls away from the curb.

Sherlock rolls his eyes as he drives away, cursing his brother’s insistence of getting involved in his life.

He steps into the Chinese restaurant and orders their usual; Sherlock even smiles at the server as he’s handed his food fifteen minutes later.

 _John would be pleased._ Sherlock thinks with a smile, then shakes his head and wonders why he suddenly cares what John thinks about Sherlock being nice.

He steps out of the Chinese restaurant and heads back towards Baker Street, still contemplating the fact that his flatmate is a vampire and that when Sherlock kissed him, John kissed him back.

Sherlock still doesn’t understand his effect on John and why the doctor thinks he’s so attractive. To Sherlock, his body is just transport, like a vessel for his mind to be stored in and so he’s never really taken notice of his outward appearance.

Beauty is a superficial concept that is measured by what society deems is ‘attractive’, whereas the mind is much greater and complicated than such base things, hence why Sherlock has spent his life working on his brain and not his body.

He supposes that one might consider him ‘attractive’ but whether everyone else does or does not is not something that Sherlock is concerned with. What he is concerned with; as he’s started to notice, is what _John_ thinks of him.

He’d decided before John even moved in that the ex-army doctor was more than he appeared to be and was instantly drawn to the simple appearing while more complex anomaly that is Doctor John Watson.

Now though, it seems that the complexity of the anomaly is even more, well complex and quite frankly even Sherlock is struggling for an explanation.

As the detective reaches Baker Street ( _when did that happen?_ ), he realises that further study must be done in order to understand why John is the way he is and more importantly who deemed John important enough to turn him into a vampire to save his life.

Sherlock shakes his head at himself as he enters 221B, deciding that right now, food is evidently more important than his current musings.

He stops suddenly as he sees John curled up on the couch sleeping and contemplates leaving the man to sleep before realising he’s been done for two hours and so John is probably hungry.

Hungry for what, he isn’t sure but he gently nudge him awake anyway.

The sleep rough tone of John’s voice sends shivers down Sherlock’s spine and he suppresses the urge to moan at it, forcing a calm smile at the Doctor instead.

Sherlock rolls his eyes when John says that they need to talk about what happened. The detective is not completely naive to how relationships work and he knows that John likes sex so obviously they’ll end up having it eventually.

But when John stutters and says he’s not sure how that’s going to work, Sherlock looks confused as to the question.

_Why would it not work? It’s obvious he’s sexually attracted to me, he said so himself._

The detective smiles softly at John’s concern about losing control, feeling he has to reassure his doctor immediately.

“John, I trust that you _won't_ lose control. As long as you have the blood that you need, you should be able to keep in control.” Sherlock replies carefully, stepping into John's space and cradling his face with his hands.

“And what about stake-outs, Sherlock. I can't just pull out a bag of blood and say _'Oh, I hope you don't mind guys, I'm just a bit peckish.'_ I'll get locked up.”

Sherlock chuckles softly at his friend, leaning down to kiss his forehead and rub his temples with his thumbs.

“I'd suggest doing what all the diet obsessives do. Pour your snack into a travel mug and say its a protein shake.” The younger man grins, causing John to glare at him.

“Are you _actually_ being serious? What if they ask what's in it?”

“John, you are a _doctor_. You should know better than anyone else what is good for your body and what could be put in a dietary cocktail.”

“Sherlock … you're not going to let me win this discussion, are you? You'll just keep throwing out excuses and facts until I fold, won't you?” John sighs in defeat, smiling up at the younger man.

“Ah, your observation is correct, John.” Sherlock grins, leaning in to kiss John.

Sherlock smiles into the kiss when he hears John’s breath hitch in his throat, feeling the same spark as the doctor in his arms as he himself tries to suppress a moan.

When he steps back from the doctor, he sees the mix of emotions cross his face as he tries to say something. It’s very endearing and Sherlock knows he’s making it very obvious how fond he is of his doctor already but doesn’t particularly care right now.

When they sit down to eat, Sherlock ponders his questions carefully, not wanting to distress the doctor but needing to know more about John’s abilities as a vampire.

He focuses his full attention on John as the vampire answers his questions and notices the minute shudder his focus causes to John.

He keeps his face neutral despite wanting to smirk at what he’s doing to the older man and he does eventually smirk at his own remark about John’s quick disappearance.

After their talk, Sherlock picks up his violin and slips into his Mind Palace while he composes a new melody.

In his chair, John settles in to listen to Sherlock composing, wondering what emotion the younger man is going to use for this particular melody.

The melody starts soft and slow, immediately relaxing John after the day’s events but then suddenly it gets more dramatic and faster, causing the doctor to grin at the younger man.

He realises that the melody perfectly reflects the day’s events and he’s ready anticipating the end of the melody; knowing that Sherlock voices his deeper emotions into his music, John is curious as to how the melody will end because that will tell him more about Sherlock’s feelings of the day.

As the melody starts to come to an end, John notices how its slowed down again but not as slow as the beginning and he realises that for Sherlock there is still a lot that needs to be addressed but not as a matter of importance right now.

When the younger man turns back to face John, his face is more relaxed and some of the tension from the day seems to have disappeared from his body.

“You’re so beautiful when you play.” John says out loud, instantly regretting it as Sherlock’s bow screeches across the strings loudly.

“Sorry.” He adds, looking embarrassed at what he just said.

But instead of some rude or sarky remark, Sherlock just smiles softly at John before placing his bow and violin down.

“Thank you, John.”

“What for?” John asks in confusion.

“Trusting me.” Sherlock whispers, his face turning away as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“Of course I trust you, Sherlock.” John replies simply, standing up and tilting Sherlock’s face back towards him.

Sherlock smiles and lifts his hand up to John’s, tilting his head and kissing his palm.

John breathes out slowly, resting hi hand against Sherlock’s cheek as the two just stand there in silence.

“I’ll always trust you. Always.”

 


End file.
